


Method in the Madness

by terrys_chocklit_orange



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Welcome to the Madness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 18:10:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10599405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrys_chocklit_orange/pseuds/terrys_chocklit_orange
Summary: Isabella is a really, really fucking good fiancée.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired, of course, by [this](https://youtu.be/KGijVRJMO3I).

Isabelle was a good girlfriend. Now, she's a great fiancée. She's always by JJ's side, always supporting him, no matter what. She has dinner with JJ's parents once a week, even when she really doesn't feel like it. She takes his little sister shopping, even when she has a lot of other things she'd rather be doing. She gives bland answers in all her interviews and never mentions, for example, that JJ cries over hockey games, or that, at Walt Disney World, he was so excited to meet Mickey Mouse that he threw up on his own shoes. When he was seventeen years old. 

Sex wise, JJ's incrediby lucky to have her. Isabella does Kegels in the shower—she's young, but there's no harm in getting an early start, is there?—and she reads Dan Savage religiously. She adheres to his principle of being “good, game and giving” like it's a personal mantra. She lets JJ slide a cold, lubed-up finger up her ass while he eats her out, even though it does nothing for her. It doesn't bother her, either. JJ's good enough with his mouth that she barely notices it after a while. She does the same for him. Isabella fingers JJ while she sucks him and while he fucks her, if he asks. He often does. Sometimes, he even goes so far as to hand over a dildo before they get started, and she uses that on him, too. It's flattering, she thinks, that he's able to trust her so openly with his kinks and desires. And it's a positive sign for their future marriage. 

But there has to be a line somewhere. 

“No, JJ.” 

“Come on, Izzy.” He smiles, the patented megawatt grin that makes fans the world over cream their panties. Isabella normally appreciates it, too, but right now, she's not in the mood. 

“It's awful, JJ. Where did you even get that gross thing?” She stares at the shirt, if it can be called that, in JJ's hand. It's a skimpy black tank top, slashed in the front and cut out in the back, marked with an X. Not only is it hopelessly tacky, but it's also dirty, as if it's actually been worn. Isabella thinks she can smell sweat and what might be Axe body spray. 

JJ, to Isabella's surprise, turns red. It's the first time he's been embarrassed about anything he's asked her to do. “It's just...I would really appreciate it if you'd wear it, OK? I'll do that thing you like.” 

“Which one?” 

“With my tongue. The flickering thing.” 

Isabella sighs. She does like that, a lot. She holds out a hand, and is rewarded with another big smile. “Thanks, babe. I knew I could count on you.” 

Isabella tosses her T-shirt and bra aside, on top of her mostly packed suitcase. “How was the exhibition skate?” Isabella asks, as she pulls on the tank top. She instantly feels itchy, like this awful shirt is going to give her a rash through its sheer horribleness. “Did I miss anything?” She'd planned to go, but she hadn't had chance to visit Sagrada Familia, and she really wanted to see it before they left Barcelona. JJ's parents tutted, but JJ himself didn't care. “You've seen my exhibition skate plenty, babe,” he'd said. “Go have fun.” 

The church was beautiful, and it was nice to have a break from JJ's family. Now, looking at JJ's face, she wonders if she missed something after all. “JJ? Are you OK?” 

“Awesome, babe.” JJ breathes. His eyes are huge, his mouth hanging slackly. He's practically drooling. Isabella sighs. If she'd known he was so into skanky rockers, she would have picked up some outfits of her own to go along with her more traditional Victoria's Secret. It's not her style, but anything would have been better than this. 

She opens her mouth, to ask if JJ wants her to buy this type of lingerie—only better quality and more fashionable—for his birthday, but before she can speak, JJ's on her, pushing her onto the bed and mouthing rough kisses onto her neck, her stomach, her legs. He bypasses her breasts and her pussy, but he flicks his tongue up the inside of her thighs, as promised, and she groans. 

Then, it happens. JJ says it. Well, he moans it into her thighs, but that doesn't stop her from hearing it. “Jesus, Yuri.” It's as clear as day. 

Isabella freezes. “What did you say?” 

JJ's quick, the fucker. “Jesus, you're incredible,” he says, not lifting his face. He doesn't have to. Isabella can see the blush on neck, spreading slowly down his chest, and she can hear his panicked, ragged breathing. 

There are very few moments in life in which one faces two clearly defined paths. Even at nineteen, Isabella knows that, and she knows she stands at such a crossroads now. One path leads to a fight, quite possibly a breakup. It leads to upheaval, to change, to Isabella losing her best friend. The only man she's ever dated, kissed, fucked. The only man she's ever loved. The other path leads to heretofore unplumbed depths of “good, game and giving.” 

The decision is easier than Isabella would have expected. 

She reaches down and grabs a handful of JJ's hair, forcing him to look up at her. “Fuck me already, you fucking loser.” Her Russian accent sounds like something out of a bad episode of an old spy show. JJ doesn't seem to care. His eyes roll back in his head, he gasps like he's about to come, and Isabella clamps her legs around his waist to draw him inside. 

They have a lot of stuff to talk about, Isabella thinks, as JJ rocks her into the headboard. But one thing that will never be in doubt is that Isabella is a really, really fucking good fiancée.


End file.
